


Forever

by snowpuppies



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-04
Updated: 2009-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every Slayer is a teenager, but each Slayer's gift is death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Fangfetish Challenge. I wondered what would happen if Potentials didn't 'outgrow' their potential-ness.
> 
> Beta'd by [Kitty Poker](http://kitty-poker1.livejournal.com/).

 

  
Annabelle starts when the oven beeps—she'd dozed off during Double Jeopardy—and the strangest feeling comes over her. She feels…stronger…healthier…than she has in a long time. Flexing her arms, she pulls herself up from the recliner and stands on feet much steadier than she's used to. Glancing at the walker in the corner, she leaves it there and turns towards the kitchen.

She pauses by the fireplace, one long, slim finger stroking the photos on the mantelpiece: A man with graying hair has his arm around the shoulder of a young boy who is smiling and showing off his missing tooth; two young dark-headed girls, no more than three, covered in mud and grinning; a family, young and old together, smiling into the camera.

Sighing, she leaves the fireside and toddles into the kitchen.

She opens the oven door a crack and the scent of warm chocolate fills the kitchen. Smiling in pleasure, she leans down and peeps inside.

_Done_.

Turning, she pulls a pot holder from the drawer—it's from their wedding shower fifty-three years ago and has a green apple embroidered on the front—and pulls the tin from the oven.

She sets it on a rack to cool and turns to grab a knife.

Carefully, she slides the blade against the edges of the wells, separating cake from pan with an ease that comes with a lifetime of practice, then begins extracting the cupcakes, placing them gently on a plate.

Slowly, she circles the platter, looking for the most symmetrical, the most perfect…

A sad smile stretches her wrinkled features as she selects just the right one.

Grabbing the knife, she adds a healthy dollop of chocolate frosting and smoothes it out. She places it in the center of a small saucer, then presses a single blue and white—blue is Robert's favorite color—candle into the cake.

_Perfect_.

 

***

 

She arrives at the cemetery a little before dusk—Robert always said dusk was the most romantic time of day, when the world went hazy and soft…dusk was the time for lovers, and what were they but that? Sliding her Oldsmobile into a handicapped parking spot—Robert's tags hadn't expired, yet—then crossing the soft grass to a grey marble headstone.

Gingerly, she kneels, placing the saucer next to the stone.

"Happy Anniversary, Robert."

Digging into her purse, she pulls out a cigarette lighter; the sharp _snick_ as it lights echoes through the grave site.

She holds it to the candle until it ignites.

"I brought you chocolate. It was always your favorite."

She wipes a tear on her sleeve, then leans forward to wipe the dust from the marker with her hands, righting the silk flowers that had been blown over by the latest storm and plucking a few nefarious-looking plants from the edges.

"There. Now you look presentable."

She sits a moment more, mind filled with memories—the softness of their first kiss, the way Robert's arms held her tightly during their first dance, the time little Tommy peed on Robert while he was changing his diaper, the sparkle in Robert's eyes when he asked for her hand, the way he smiled when he said "forever", and meant it—before slowly rising to her feet and turning to go.

She leaves the cupcake, the candle flickering in the cool night breeze.

 

***

 

She's about half-way to the car when she hears a familiar voice.

"Thanks."

Heart in her throat, she turns; it's Robert, dirty and dusty and alive and he's eating his cupcake.

A sob escapes her throat as she takes a step, then two, forward—she can't believe it's him. But then, the moonlight catches his features just right and she notices…there's something wrong with his face. He looks…like a monster, and she knows there must be a mistake, because Robert was a _good_ man, and he simply cannot be this…_thing_ that's crawled out of his grave.

Biting back her fear, she turns and begins to run towards the car.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Aren't you glad to see me?" She hears his taunting voice, coming closer…closer…until something crashes into her back and she goes sprawling into the nicely manicured grass.

Strong arms flip her over and she stares into yellow eyes and sharp teeth that distort the features she loved so much for over fifty years.

And suddenly, she's _angry_, angrier than she's ever been—how dare this creature violate her Robert's memory—and she shoves the creature away, scrambling to her feet.

"Come on, Annabelle. Isn't this what you wanted? You and me, together…_forever_?"

"You're not my Robert."

"Well, if that's what you want…"

She watches as the hideous features _melt_ away, leaving Robert's handsome face, his stunning blue eyes looking at her with such love…but she's not fooled.

The devil has a fair face, her father had always said, and the creature before her is a devil, no mistake.

"You—you stay away from me." She clenches her purse with sweaty fingers, adrenaline pumping through her wiry body as it hasn't in years.

He leers and steps closer. "And what are you going to do about it, princess?"

"Don't call me that." She tenses to run and glances back for just a moment, but it's long enough and when she turns, he's flying through the air towards her, fangs flashing in the low light. She twists away, pushing out with her palms as he sails by, then tumbling to the ground in a heap.

She looks up in time to see him land, impaled, on the handle of the gardener's wheelbarrow, discarded as the sun went down and the time-clock began to call.

He looks shocked, his demonic features melting away, and the last thing she sees are Robert's big blue eyes before he crumbles into dust.

Sobbing, she crawls to the spot and slumps to the ground, Robert's ashes leaving a fine film on her blouse.

She stays there until morning, praying that another demon will appear to take her away, too.

 

***

 

When the sun rises, she sits up and climbs to her feet with a strange amount of ease for someone who's spent the night on the cold, hard ground. She's nearly made it to the parking lot when a slip of a girl with blonde hair and solemn blue eyes approaches.

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

"I—I'm not sure."

The girl nods; there's something in her gaze that's old…much older than should be in one of so few years.

"There's something I need to tell you."

Something about the girl's demeanor seems…off, and suddenly Annabelle knows that the girl's visit has something to do with what happened the night before, the monster and the grave and the dust and the strange way she feels better than she has in thirty years, and she knows it's probably important—life and death important—but she also knows that she has absolutely no desire to hear it.

"I don't want to know."

"Ma'am, it's important."

"I know it is."

"For your safety, I really have to insist."

"I'm not interested."

The girl nods, staring at the pavement.

Annabelle turns to open the car door.

"They'll come for you anyways, you know. You can't hide what you are."

Sitting her purse in the passenger seat, Annabelle slides into the car.

Glancing back, she catches the girl's gaze.

"Let them come."

 

 

_FIN_.

 

Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.livejournal.com/182354.html).


End file.
